Rock the Vote
by KateThorne
Summary: Sam just graduated college and is looking for something to do. Gabriel Novak is running for Governor and needs interns. Sabriel! One-Shot! M for sexual content.


**If you're a member of the Tea Party you might not like this. It isn't overtly politicized but, c'mon, Tea Party, sometimes you make it too easy. The only actual political stance taken is toward marriage equality and you ARE reading slash fiction, soooo... not a DRASTIC leap on my part.**

"Hello, ma'am. I'm sorry to interrupt your day, but I was hoping to borrow a moment of your time to talk about the upcoming elections for Governor. Have you thought about who you'll be voting for?... I see... Yes, well, I'd like to talk about the candidate, Gabriel Novak." Sam leaned back in his chair, meeting his cubicle mate, Kevin's, gaze over the divider. Sam silently mimed holding a gun to his temple, rolling his eyes. Kevin pointed to his headset, then pretended to vomit in his 'No Nonsense Novak' mug.

"Well, I can't say that a Governor can do much about the teenagers and your trashcans." Sam said, holding his temples on his desk. "But I can attest to his commitment to schools programs. Gabriel Novak is running on a policy of... I see."

Kevin slipped his headset off, then pointed to the kitchen and his mug of coffee, then back to Sam. Sam smiled gratefully and nodded.

"Yes, I am aware of Mr. Adler's reputation as city councilman. No... no I didn't know the exact numbers of incarceration. Well, Gabriel Novak is not his father... Or his brother. ...I see- oh, well—ok, thank you for your time."

A dial tone met his headset and Sam pulled it off in defeat.

"You're a champion." Kevin said shaking his head and handing him his coffee. Sam sighed and Kevin rolled his eyes. "C'mon, crazies are part of the cold calling job. You get more contact than anyone else though. You're the best."

"Nine out of ten times no one even answers the phone." Sam sighed, "And when they do, it's to tell me what they've heard about _Zachariah Adler_."

"You know as well as I do that the people who have time to answer the phone to a cold call are the kinds of lunatics that buy into Zachariah's 'grassroots' Obama-is-a-secret-muslim-socialist, don't-tread-on-me, women's-rights-hating sensationalized _crap._"

That was one of the things Sam envied Kevin for. Besides the fact that Kevin's Mom called him everyday (much to Kevin's embarrassment) was that Kevin actually... cared.

"What if they're also the kinds of lunatics that vote?"

Kevin gave a weak smile and a shrug. Sam took a sip of his coffee, his eyes growing heavy.

Sam didn't get much sleep the night before. In fact, Sam hadn't been sleeping much in the past few months. It wasn't the first time, it probably wouldn't be the last. Sometimes the thoughts in Sam's head went so fast that he couldn't sleep through them; he was afraid he'd miss something important.

"Maybe you should take a break or something." Kevin said. He'd been watching him the whole time. "I'll cover for you."

"Nah. I'm good." Sam said as he looked up the next number to call. It was always a little bit easier when he had something to do.

That had been his problem after finishing law school; he didn't have anything to occupy his attention. He was a graduate from one of the best schools in the country and he could do whatever he wanted.

And that was sort of the problem. Where do you go when you can literally go anywhere?

Sam had broken up with his girlfriend in his junior year and then broke up with his boyfriend right after graduation. Sam's friends were splintering off, going to work in law firms all over the world but the tricky thing was that he forgot them once they left. He'd spent the past eight years with his pseudo family of students and once school was over, Sam was suddenly very alone, looking around and wondering how he got that way.

He could go anywhere and be anyone, no one would even care, his friends were in the wind and his family... No one would even care.

Maybe he should call Dean. It was a legacy of eight years of half thought out phone calls, usually ending in a fight or awkward silence, but the thought kept popping up when Sam wasn't ready for it. His brother would occur to him when Sam saw a pretty girl that Dean would like or heard a song he recognized from the shoe box of tapes in Dean's closet. Sometimes Sam would think of Dean when Kevin's mom called at work.

Sam wasn't rooted to anything. If he wasn't careful he'd float away into nothing. Sometimes he'd stay awake at night, thinking of all the things that he couldn't hold onto, because he was afraid he'd miss them when he closed his eyes or lose them when he woke up.

Then Gabriel Novak came into the bookshop where he worked through college. They told him he could be a manager and Sam still didn't know who he wanted to be or where he wanted to do it, so he accepted.

Gabriel talked about community and passion and education. Gabriel had a plan for the future and that was exactly what Sam had been missing.

He had spent the past eight years in school, to busy to think about the family he once had that seemed to float away from. He could spend eight weeks working on a campaign to keep from drifting off somewhere he wouldn't ever recognize.

* * *

"He's coming!" An aide, with her cellphone under her ear, warned.

Becky was a very nice twenty year old girl, that had a tendency to overreact to high levels of excitement, but -for once- her ominous tone was right on the mark.

People started turning off the T.V.s, that they were watching the debate from, mounted along the walls. A few people had been viewing the program on their computers, and they hurriedly closed out of the windows. Not a moment too soon, as Gabriel turned the corner and walked into their offices.

"Becky, coffee." He announced in lieu of greeting. Becky raced to his side with a mug, while Chuck Shirley beside him, hadn't stopped mumbling in his ear. Chuck kept referring to the notes in his hands that Gabriel still hadn't looked at.

"Hey, stretch." Gabriel barked. Sam jumped, being taller than everyone in the office by a solid three inches, there were not a lot of other people Gabriel might be talking to. "Instead of catching flies over there, get the numbers from Ash would you? Let's see if I shot myself in the foot or cut off my leg altogether tonight." Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, roughing up his smooth, television-ready coif. Taking a tired breath, he turned to the room at large, a series of people mostly pretending to not be staring at him out of the corners of their eyes. "Everyone else, I know. It was bad. It was very, very bad. You don't need to protect my delicate ego. Just go home, all of you. We'll do this again tomorrow. Out, out, all of you. Vamos. Hasta Luego. Auf Wiedersen."

All the campaign workers looked nervously at each other.

"There isn't anything more we can do tonight." Gabriel said gently, "Please, go home. Damage control first thing in the morning."

Everyone started packing up, but Gabriel kept walking towards the back conference room, flanked by Becky and coffee, with Chuck and his notepads.

Sam headed to Ash's office. (A corner of the kitchen barricaded by beer and bar nuts.) Without looking up from his laptop, Ash handed Sam the poll numbers without him having to ask.

"Gabriel said to head home. We'll work on this tomorrow morning." Sam said, as he looked around the kitchen. Some poor, optimistic souls had laid out champagne and a yellow and gold cake that read "Congratulations!"

They had obviously underestimated Gabriel's opponent, Zachariah Adler. He didn't have any valid opinions or articulate ways to say them, but he did know when to slap the podium and point accusingly at Gabriel, as though he was directly responsible for drugs and teen pregnancy in the world.

Sam cut into the cake on the table. Plopping the piece directly onto a paper bowl.

"Still can make last call at the Roadhouse." Ash said with a fist pump. "Save you a bar-stool?"

"Nah. I might see if I can help out a bit."

Ash winked and gave him a peace sign, as he and about three solid days of body odor followed him out into the hall. The office was empty. It was late, almost eleven, and everyone had been there all day. Campaigning was a full time job that required a full staff.

Gabriel Novak was running for governor of California, finally, and he would be the second Novak to hold the office. The Novaks were a pure blooded political family; each of Gabriel's brothers already holding important seats of power, all the way up to their father who had nearly been elected president. They were charming and powerful, and rich to the high heavens.

Sam hadn't voted for Lucas Novak, the Senator. Nor had he participated in Michael Novak's ascension to Supreme Court Justice. He hadn't even voted for Raphael's wife, who now sat as the Vice-President. Sam considered himself a-political. He didn't have a party, but he hopped onto Gabriel Novak's bandwagon as soon as it came to town.

Sam knocked, even though the doors of the conference room were glass. Chuck ushered him in, Gabriel didn't look up.

"The numbers you asked for." Sam said, handing the folder for Gabriel to collect. Chuck intercepted it and opened it feverishly. No one said anything else, so Sam placed the plate of cake next to him and started easing out of the room.

"Was this supposed to be a 'congratulations' cake?" Gabriel asked as he noticed it.

Chuck saw the slice and stared bloody murder at Sam over Gabriel's head.

"Yes. But I used a fork to mash up the 'congrats' so now it's just cake."

Gabriel was silent for a moment and Sam thought he had done something truly stupid. Chuck opened his mouth to try and smooth it over when Gabriel broke into a grin.

"It's just cake." he repeated, shaking his head and cutting himself a bite. "Thanks, stretch."

"It's..." Sam started. Both Gabriel and Chuck looked back up at him. "It's Sam. Actually."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. Chuck rolled his eyes and willed Sam to just leave.

"Sorry." Gabriel said. He let his eyes roll down Sam's frame and Sam tried not to blush. "Thanks for the cake, Abercrombie. Now go home and get some sleep."

* * *

Sam didn't go home and get any sleep. He went across the street to the bar that most of the other campaign interns went to after work.

'Roadhouse' was Texas chic, housed in the middle of Sacramento. Decorated with faux wood paneling and stuffed bull heads, as country music from at least 1980 played on a loop. It was a little bit of a cowboy paradise, in the big, grey and cold pacific northwest.

Sam thought for a moment that maybe Dean would like a bar like this. The micro-brews on tap betrayed any real Texas dive vibe, that the owner was trying to hard to sell. It was kind of nice, nonetheless.

He should call Dean. He knew he wouldn't though. He thought about his brother everyday, but everyday there was a reason to not call.

Yesterday it was because Sam thought Dean might be at work. A week ago it was because the Chiefs lost the playoffs. Tonight it was that it was too late. Kansas was an hour ahead and it was midnight. Dean probably wouldn't be asleep, but it would be rude to call.

Besides, what would he say?

"Sam! You made it!" Pamela called from the bar. "Get that magnificent ass over here and tell Kevin why he's wrong!"

Kevin grinned and took a sip of his drink. Pamela was the only one out tonight that was actually hired and was a valuable asset to the team. Not just a body to hand out flyers or make calls. At about ten years older than the rest, and hot on the heels of her divorce, she was the smartest and toughest of all them. If she thought Kevin was wrong, there was a good chance he was.

Kevin, eighteen and away from home for the first time, didn't seem too upset about being wrong, as he was glowing under Pamela's attention. She placed her hand on his forearm as she leaned over the bar to order another drink. Kevin was drinking diet soda and that was probably his greatest virtue, as the bartender, Jo, probably only let him in because he was attached to some of her best paying customers. Sam waved one hand at Jo and decided to let Pamela eat Kevin alive, settling in beside Garth and Ash.

"No, you're crazy." Garth was explaining, wrinkling his too big nose, on his too small face. Sam was constantly reminded of a mischievous elf. "It's 2013, no one is using that server anymore. It's a dinosaur."

The bartender, Jo, was young and pretty. Roadhouse had an odd habit of only seeming to have young, beautiful Cowboys Cheerleading Drop-outs as bartenders. Jo was sweet, though, and smarter than she let on. SHe was heading toward them with Sam's favorite beer on her tray and a ravenous look in her eye.

Well, Jo was smart about _most _things Sam thought as licked her lips at him.

"Nah, man." Ash said, taking the beer Jo handed him as she came to their table. She put the bottle in front of Sam and rested her hand on his shoulder as she looked around the table for empties. "See, that's your problem. All these computers and iPads are operating with the same basic functions, they just look different, smaller and streamlined. This server is out of date, sure, but the ideas behind it are solid. Classics are never a waste of time."

"What are they talking about?" Jo asked him. It was a ruse, though, simply an excuse for her to lean down to mutter in his ear, letting her soft blonde hair fall over his shoulder. Garth was drunk enough to stare. Ash just shook his head and took a pull from his bottle.

"I'm not sure." Sam said back, he took a drink of his beer and Jo was hailed to another table.

Garth started grinning at him, so Sam got up and went to the juke box.

He didn't feel like drinking with these people right now. While Jo was funny and sweet, she was also bold. Sam didn't want to embarrass her.

"So, are you trying to find a song to let her down easy for you?" Pamela asked, joining him by the jukebox and slapping his butt. It would be harmless and jock-like, if she didn't squeeze a bit at the end there. She helped herself to his beer and leaned against the glass, looking at the mess of millennials in front of her.

Sober and awake, they were the cream of the crop. Kevin and Sam were both from Stanford. Ash had been puttering around and building computer apps in his parents garage since graduating with honors from MIT. Garth had a full ride to Berkley.

They were the best of the best. Though, drunk after a bad night of campaigning, they looked like kids. Horny, insecure, bored, lonely children in a knock-off dive bar. Pamela never held it against them, though. Sam thought that Dean would like a woman like Pamela.

"Keep up the groping and I won't need to." Sam said, and Pamela smiled around his bottle. "Just tell her you're gay. You have best 'let them down easy' line in the world at your disposal and you're wasting it. Trust me, honey. I've been a married, lesbian, truck-driving, nun to get rid of losers at bars. Just tell her, she'll feel a little silly about barking up the wrong tree and move on."

"How'd you know I was gay?"

"Oh, Sam, I just know things. Plus you haven't screwed anyone since you got here and even Kevin lost his virginity this summer. No, get that look off your face, not to me. I'm just saying, everyone's been fucking everyone this whole time and if you aren't... well... maybe your flavor hasn't exactly passed by yet."

Sam shrugged. Pamela patted his ass again. She moved on to the pool table where Ash was lining up his next shot.

As Sam went up to the bar to pay for his beer, Jo grinned, moving her slender body so that Sam could see every inch of her. They were beautiful inches, but too small and delicate. She was a soft glass goddess and Sam needed a rough selfish hand, or some hard stubble against his thigh to get off.

"A shot?" Jo asked, pouting her lips when Sam shook his head 'no.'

"Just clearing up my tab. I'm not much fun tonight."

"You should stick around. Your night might get better." She leaned against the back counter of the bar, jutting her narrow hips forward, a stance that might be casual if the look in her eyes wasn't predatory. "I'm off at one." She clarified.

"That's... flattering..." Sam said, signing his card slip as she handed it to him.

"I can be _so_ much more than flattering."

"Wow. Uh, so if I were my brother, this would be a whole other story, but, ah..."

"We're going to need, three beers and a diet coke." Someone interrupted beside him. A slap on his ass with a squeeze at the end. Sam mouthed 'thank you' to Pamela at the bar as he snuck out the door.

He could go to his "apartment", as it was, but he was pretty sure Ash would try to bring someone home with him tonight. Their apartment essentially was a motel room that could be rented by the week. It was a studio with two twin sized beds. Ash didn't have a second set of sheets and he certainly hadn't done laundry in the five weeks they'd been here. So it generally smelled especially ripe on his side of the room, but he seemed to always find girls who wouldn't mind.

Plus, Sam didn't want to go home. He didn't feel like sleeping and that room felt a little too much like memories of home. It made him think about Dean.

It was late. But Dean wouldn't mind, and Sam didn't have anyone else he wanted to talk to really. Sam dialed his brother's number from memory. It was saved in his phone, but that didn't matter, somethings just felt good. Like walking up the driveway to a childhood home.

Sam and Dean didn't have a childhood home, but dialing felt right.

"Sam?" his brother's voice was low and graveled. He had woken him up. When Sam checked the time again, he saw that it was past two. How had that happened? "You ok?"

"Yeah. Sorry, Dean. I didn't realize how late it was... I can call back later, or tomorrow or whatever."

"Last time you said that you didn't call back for three months."

"Sorry, Dean."

"Quit apologizing." He heard the movement of the bed springs and knew Dean was getting up. Sam took the moment to finally look down the street where he had been wandering, pulling his coat closer against him, against the chill. He was on the street where his office was, somehow all of his haunts brought him here.

He needed to get out more.

"So, what's up?" Dean asked. He sounded more awake, Sam imagined him with a beer in his hand and he missed Lawrence Kansas so much it hurt like a punch to the gut. He missed his brother's rickety card table, he missed the rabbit ears on the television and the lumpy couch that was at least as old as he was.

Roots. Dean had roots and Sam had them once too. Then Sam got mad and saw red and hacked them off as though he had never wanted them anyways. Sam did the damnedest things when he was upset.

"I was just, I don't know, thinking."

"You been sleeping lately?" Dean asked, knowing. Sam had always been this way, ever since he was a kid. Especially when he was a senior in high school and applications were due. He and Dean had shared a small, ripe smelling room with two twin beds.

"Yes." Sam lied.

Dean sighed, like he didn't believe it, but it was Winchester code to believe the lies. Everything's fine. I can quit drinking whenever I want. You can always come home when you need to.

Things weren't fine. Neither John nor Dean seemed to want to quit drinking yet, and Sam didn't have a home he could go to.

But the truths were ugly and there is enough ugliness in the world. So they lied and they pretended to believe them. It was an uneasy truce, but the only one on the table.

"There's a bar here you'd like."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You should drive down again. We had fun the last time."

There was a beat and then a, "Yeah. We did." It was the Winchester code to uphold the lies.

"You been drinking, Sam?"

"No." A knee-jerk reflex.

Dean sighed. "How is Sacramento? Gonna settle down there anytime soon?"

"Maybe." Sam said, turning a corner on the street. "Sometimes I think about coming back. You know, to Kansas. I haven't taken the Bar yet. I could take it there."

"Don't do that Sam." Dean said tiredly. "Don't sat that kind of thing."

"What?"

"You friggen know what. Don't say you're coming back home and then not. 's mean."

"Maybe I mean it."

"Yeah. Well..."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means, I'll believe it when I see it, that's what it means." Dean waited a moment, exactly one beer swig if Sam was counting right. "You just do this and it hurts, ok, Sam. Congratulations, you can hurt our feelings. First you went to California and that was... you know how that was for us, but whatever, you were eighteen. I got a tattoo when I was eighteen, just to piss Dad off. Whatever. Then you finished undergrad and you were talking about law school here and it seemed like it was cool between us all again and then you chose to stay there and... just don't say you're coming back if you aren't."

"Well, you're forgetting that he-'

"Oh, for fucks sake please get over this angsty twenty-three-and-Dad-doesn't-understand phase. You're twenty eight, Sam. It isn't cute anymore."

"Dean, really? I told him I was gay and he didn't say _anything_."

"Well, jesus, Sam. Ok, he reacted shitty. But, c'mon, you've _met _the guy, haven't you? You can't have expected anything else. You have a right to get mad at him, I never denied you that but-"

"_But-_?!"

"Look, I know that you were probably struggling with being gay or, whatever, for years and I don't know what that's like, so whatever, but you had time to think about it and he didn't. You just sprung it on him at Christmas-"

"Don't say 'Christmas' like it means something Dean. You were there. It was Dad with a six pack and a bucket of extra crispy."

"-you just said, 'Dad, I'm gay and you have to accept it right this second and react exactly the way I want with-like- hugs and tears and a big gay pride parade.' I mean, you were the one who seemed like he might settle down and get married and give him a thousand grandkids and suddenly you weren't."

"Oh, so it's my fault for-"

"Did I say that? Is that what I said? No. Be you, Sam. We love and all that crap-that you fucking know but make us say thirty times a day- But, I mean, his whole idea of what your future was going to be like changed in a sentence and he needed a _minute_ to think. He wanted you to come down too, you know. He wanted you to go to law school here."

"He never calls me. He's made it pretty clear that he doesn't want to talk to me."

"Maybe he thinks you don't want to talk to him."

"Is that what he said?"

"Does that sound like something he'd say out loud?"

"He's the parent. He should be trying-"

Dean let out an exasperated breath and Sam heard Dean's class ring against the plastic of the phone as Dean switched hands. He remembered, suddenly, how far away he was. All the way in California, attached to his brother and father by a phone line only.

It was a fragile connection Sam had to his brother, and he didn't know why they always argued when they talked like this. He loved Dean, and he wanted to talk to Dean.

Until he actually started talking to Dean, then he remembered all the reasons that moving away had seemed like the only good idea when he was eighteen. He remembered when he was twelve and Dean took him to set off fireworks in a back field in Iowa. He remembered Dean straightening his backpack on their first day at a new school, when most big brothers were too embarrassed to be seen with their baby siblings.

They grew up and they grew apart and Sam felt that distance in him everyday. It felt like they were on a different planet when they were actually talking. It was like speaking a foreign language when Dean came down for the week. He left early, pretended that he needed to be back at work.

But it wasn't exactly like there was such thing as a "mechanic emergency." They had just forgotten how to be brothers and it was Winchester code to call it anything else.

"Did you call to pick a fight?" Dean asked. He wasn't frustrated or rubbing it in Sam's face; he was genuinely asking. Dean was struggling too. "I've picked enough fights when we were kids. It's ok, I just need to know if that's why you called. Is it something else?"

"Why are we like this, Dean?" Sam asked. "Why aren't we close anymore?"

"You ran away, Sam." It was blunt, and that was more shocking than anything, coming from his brother's lips. Winchester code gone to Hell."You argue with family. It's what families do. But you don't _leave_ that's... that's playing dirty."

"Are you saying it's my fault?" Sam asked. Dean sighed.

"Maybe. I didn't change, Sam. I'm exactly the same. Dad's the same. It can't be our fault. We literally didn't do anything."

Sam didn't have a way to fight back from that.

"Ok. Sorry I woke you up, Dean. Sorry about... everything."

"You can always wake me up, Sam." Dean said.

Sam mumbled "goodbye" and hung up.

He wouldn't be sleeping tonight and it certainly wasn't the first time he went without.

* * *

Sam found himself heading back to the office, figuring at least there was internet there. Also bottled water and food; the three things lacking at home. The lights were on, but that wasn't too strange, since cleaning crews hung around for ages and Sam wasn't sure that they even turned all the lights off at night. Kind of wasteful, but Sam liked the idea of a place that never got truly dark.

Sam wandered towards the kitchen to see if there was any cake left. He passed the conference room just as Gabriel looked up from the files in front of him. Gabriel cocked his eyebrow and Sam stuck his head into the room.

"Midnight oil much?" Sam asked, suddenly aware of the fact that he had beer on his breath. It was only a half of a beer at most, but he smelt like a bar and alcohol. Something on him tinged almost dirty and sensual that Dean always brought home when he came in from a night out.

"Why are you back here? I sent you all home. Nerd."

"What does that make you?" Sam asked.

"A devoted politician." Gabriel said with a straight face. "Who else is going to answer the phone when it's 3 am?"

"A Hilary joke? That's dated."

"That's what I pay you Millennials for." Gabriel said wryly, rubbing his temples, "Gotta stay hip for my constituents."

"You don't pay us at all. We're interns."

"Hmmm. I guess we are taking advantage of your generation." Gabriel said, closing the file. He stood up, yawning and popping his back. "Are you headed out? I was about to see if there was any coffee or cake left."

"I don't have... my roommate might have brought home a girl and I just don't really want..." Sam took a deep breath as Gabriel passed him, under his arm, as Sam held the door open. In Gabriel's defense, everyone seemed small to Sam. Even ten years after his last growth spurt, he was always surprised when someone passed under his outstretched arm, or angled their head back to look at him. But Gabriel always seemed so vivacious and down right bouncy sometimes, his energy was almost too big for the room he was in, always outshining everyone else in it.

Now Gabriel walked easily, coming up to Sam's shoulder. Appearing very quiet and subdued. It was unsettling, but kind of comforting at the same time. Gabriel didn't seem as intimidating as he did when he was swarmed by aides or make-up people fussing with his hair.

"Score." Gabriel announced as he opened the fridge and produced the almost whole cake the cleaning crew must have tucked away. The only piece missing was the one Sam had cut for him hours ago. Sam wordlessly held up the empty coffee pot and Gabriel nodded vigorously, his mouth full and the cake suddenly lacking one yellow frosting rose.

Sam started the pot just as Gabriel plopped himself down at the plastic table with the cake and two forks, while Sam got mugs for the coffee around.

"So," Gabriel said after a second frosting rose conspicuously vanished from the cake decorations. "Are you going to tell me who pissed in your cornflakes or are we going to pretend that this is just a professional three am cake and coffee meeting?"

Sam let out a bark of a laugh, the first genuine one all night. It felt good, like breathing fresh air after holding his breath. He poured two mugs of coffee and turned to Gabriel, who was eating the cake right from the platter.

"I've got this dog, Titan" Gabriel explained, pointing with his cake covered fork, "and when he makes on the carpet I take his ball away. You look like someone took your ball away. You also smell like a bar. Someone steal your girl?"

"Definitely not." Sam said, sipping his coffee black as Gabriel poured tablespoons of sugar into his. He was grinning nonetheless. He liked watching Gabriel like this, all stripped down, his usually combed back brown hair fell into his face and tucked behind his ear. His shirt visibly wrinkled and he had a little red 'v' shape on the bridge of his nose where his glasses had sat. Yet his leg still fidgeted under the table, like a child who had never learned to hold still.

"Someone steal your boy, then?"

Sam choked on hot coffee.

"Is it written on my face? Am I wearing my Elton John tee shirt again and just forgot? How does everyone just _know_?"

"Well, I didn't until just now, but good to know. Did someone steal your boyfriend or are you just missing the one you left back home? You're from Stanford, right? Palo Alto?"

Sam nodded and Gabriel finally finished stirring his coffee, taking a sip as Sam took the second fork from the table and helped himself to a corner of the cake. He winced at the acidic sweetness as it burned his nose.

"No boyfriend to be stolen, no boyfriend to miss. Had one in college but he partied too much toward the end. He always wanted to go out, whenever he went out he wanted to get laid in a bathroom and if I wasn't there... he didn't think I should get mad at him since he'd have done me if I was there but I wasn't so" Sam shrugged, "I didn't get mad. I didn't love him, he was just the first so..."

"You just grew up faster than him, then." Gabriel said with a shrug.

"This is so surreal." Sam said abruptly. Gabriel glanced up at him with a raised brow. "Just... eating cake. With my boss. At three am. And telling him about my ex boyfriend. I spend all day talking about you and thinking about you- "Gabriel smirked and Sam's face got hot, "I mean, you know, your campaign and stuff and now that you're here in front of me- I'm talking about me."

"Aren't you ever sick of talking about me, though?" Gabriel asked, leaning back in his chair. "All day, everyday, about how my hair looked and about the way I smile and the words I use and the people I direct my answers to and which cufflinks look best on T.V. I'm just so bored of it. Aren't you?"

"No, never." Sam said earnestly.

"So, I know what Chuck thinks. I know what local news thinks. I've read what the bloggers think. What's your take on how I did tonight? Don't act like you didn't see. Everyone saw. My brothers saw. My father saw. What do you think?"

"Honestly?"

"I'd be disappointed with anything less."

"I thought you were..."

"Don't hold out on me. Was I condescending? Cheesy? Repetitive? Inarticulate? I've heard every bad thing there is. Hit me."

"I thought you were... safe."

"Safe? Safe can be good."

"Yeah, but the way Adler remarked about that school shooting and your family's history of lenience on gun control. The way he made you sound like a kid with a silver spoon in his mouth. He was fighting dirty and you just stuck to the party line. It was all valence issues and good old patriotism from you. Safe will keep you in the running but you won't win with it. I wanted you to... take a stance. Not just, 'Education is a high priority' and 'I thank all the firefighters and police for their service.' but actual plans about education. Change the system. Spend less on border control and more on textbooks. Remember that? You said that in the first meeting I ever was in. And I was sold. I wanted to work for you because no one else did anything. You won me at three pm on a Tuesday and you can win them too if you just..."

"Nut up?"

"Well, yeah. Sort of."

Gabriel took another bite of cake.

"I think you'll be a great governor. I think you're a great guy but they don't know that. None of them know what you're like and I want them to because... it's something really great."

"You're real cute, Abercrombie." Gabriel said softly. He put his fork down. "What's it like to be you, huh?"

"Gabriel?"

"Just... to be born with that face. Are you kidding me? And that sort of, I don't know, Disney princess kind of optimism. I _was_ born with the silver spoon in my mouth. I was told from a young age that I would get good grades and go to law school and be in charge of something because my father was. You call me different from all the others because I am. I was groomed for this. Everything about my childhood was choosen for it's desirability on a resume. Everything about my personality was hand selected by my brothers and father for this. What is it even? What's it worth, really? My hands will be tied by the state budget and the district congressmen. I'm not better than any of them, Abercrombie. In fact, I might be worse because I've been told what to want. So, what's it like to be you, kid? Have something to believe in? Faith?"

"You're wrong." Sam said, and Gabriel grimaced, like it hurt to laugh at that. "You're so wrong you just can't see beyond your family that is just... You're charming, Gabriel. And you're energetic and you believe in the issues, I know it, I can see it in your eyes. I watched videos of you campaigning when you were young, giving the speech at your graduation. Damn it, Gabriel, don't tell me I don't know what I'm looking at. Don't insult my intelligence by spewing your poor rich boy story on me. I can see you. You tell the truth. You don't fight dirty and you know what you want to do, you're just scared to do it. Do you... do you know how few people tell the truth? Do you know how everyone fights dirty? And you're better than them, so don't you dare tell me you're not."

"Why not, kid? If I always tell the truth what makes you think I'm lying now? I'm a political cog, designed in a factory just for this. You're right. I'll be a perfectly fine governor, but there's nothing more. There isn't anything more in politics at all."

"Maybe there's nothing more in politics, but there is more in you."

"Shucks, Abercrombie." Gabriel said in a hard tone. He was back tracking, trying to sneak out of this conversation. If it was ten the next morning or Sam hadn't just gotten off the phone with Dean or if Sam had a full night's rest, maybe he'd let him. But Sam was tired of lying and letting people lie and act like it was the truth. The whole world was operating on the Winchester code and Sam was so fucking over it.

He wasn't going to let this drop.

Gabriel took another deep breath and leveled a malicious grin at Sam.

"The way you prattle on, Abercrombie, I'd say you had a little crush."

Sam didn't look away. "Would that be so bad?"

Gabriel wasn't expecting that answer. Sam pressed forward.

Because it was a truth and Sam was tired of pretending it wasn't.

"Gabriel. You're forty six and you've never been married. I can just tell. I think you should use this. I think you should fuck me, hard, on the conference table first. Then you should go out there and tell the world that you like men and more importantly you are qualified to be a great leader. You underestimate your constituents if you think they'd hold it against you. You underestimate yourself if you think that being gay would distract from the fact that you've been preparing for this office since you were born. So, what will it be, Gabriel? Stop being safe. Take what you want, what you've been waiting your whole life for. Take your office in three days at the final election. Take me tonight."

"God, Abercrombie, why aren't you writing my speeches?"

"If you're going to be inside me, I want you to call me Sam."

Gabriel was tempted, that much was clear in the way that he stopped fidgeting. Going still and silent, like a hawk about to swoop down on his prey. This prey in particular is about a hair away from rolling over and begging for it.

Those eyes of his, so odd in their yellow-brown color did not hide the way his pupils dilated. It would feel good to get taken tonight. Sam wanted someone to hold him down, because talking to Dean made him realize just how far he had drifted away.

"So, the conference room?" Sam tried for nonchalance and ended up with a growling plea.

"I can't."

"Yes." Sam was begging now. He needed someone inside of him, he needed someone's hands on him to help pull him out of his own head. "Yes. You can, you need to."

"I can't Sam. It was hard enough for me to get this far with that... speculation... hanging over me. You've taken political science classes. You know about single issue negative voters; people who will see that I'm gay and ignore the rest. Because by being gay they think that means I hate marriage and the church. That I want to have gay pride every day and public sex in broad daylight. You're a child, Sam. Maybe it's different for you. With Chris Colfer on TV and maybe you were chairperson of your LGBT club and you can go to gay bars without worrying about being arrested because cops generally give a crap now but I wasn't able to say I was gay out loud until I was forty. It was just this big unspoken secret like it always had been when I was a kid. A strange uncle who never married or an aunt who was _very_ close to her roommate. So, yes, I'm keeping it unspoken because maybe people your age are ok with being gay and I hope you're 'out and proud' if you run for office but that's not me, so back off on the gay thing."

"You're no one's strange uncle, Gabriel." Sam murmured. Gabriel looked away for a moment. "And did you know that in the past five minutes you've looked more alive and impassioned than you did in that debate? There's so much more Gabriel, and you keep it locked away; some secret no one needs you to keep."

"You aren't the first person to try and guilt me into coming 'out' and it's never worked before."

"That wasn't what this was."

"That's exactly what this was." Gabriel snapped. "I'm sorry you had a bad day and someone took your ball or whatever the fuck is going on with you tonight but quit shoving your identity crisis on me. I've got enough to worry about."

"Yeah." Sam huffed, standing from the table. Gabriel looked pointedly off to the side. "Yeah, you do have enough to worry about. It is all fake. The way you are up there. I thought maybe you weren't, but you are. This is the first time I think I've ever seen you and... you're nothing but a bitter old coward. Keep doing what you're doing, because you don't want anyone to see... this."

"Leave." Gabriel said.

But Sam was already gone.

* * *

Gabriel Novak wasn't the kind of guy that dwelled on his mistakes.

He apologized, asked forgiveness and moved on, like a good politician. It was exactly like Michael did when he got caught with that mistress. It had been what Lucas did when he was found with all that mysterious money.

I'd like to apologize to the American public and my family. I'd like to assert that this ordeal has only brought be closer to my morals, my family and my job. I want an opportunity to make it up to my constituents.

And the funny thing was, it worked.

A year, maybe two, after they fessed up, people forgot. They voted for them again, made them incumbents, even after a political swan dive like that. If they couldn't impeach you, they couldn't hurt you, as long as it was far enough away from reelection.

The voters, they forgot about it.

It wasn't until Gabriel was an adult that he realized it was because people had jobs and families, things to do and love. Generally, no one besides politicians cared about politics. Everyone else had something else, but the Novaks didn't. His family didn't have family vacations, they had poll numbers. They didn't have family dinner, they had note cards and it was shameful that it wasn't until Gabriel was an adult, that he realized that wasn't how normal people lived.

They lived their own lives and concerned themselves with their own things. Gabriel had never had his own things.

He had actually been jealous of Michael, when he found out. That Michael could love someone he wasn't supposed to. When did he even have the time? But then she was thrown away, called a media whore and adequately shamed into taking the money before moving to Canada.

They threw her away because Michael wasn't allowed to have things for himself.

When he went to his press conference, his wife at his side, wearing a carefully picked out scarf in just the right shade of white, he apologized for disgracing his country.

He vowed himself to righting his errors in his marriage and in his conscience. He called himself America's faithful public servant, and that struck Gabriel as funny.

Michael lived in a mansion and people called him 'sir' and he had an intern that brought him coffee. He didn't look like any servant that Gabriel had ever seen; but he was more subdued after they sent her away. Gabriel was twenty and distracted by college and with his own budding sense of self, but now at forty six Gabriel knew what it was.

A little bit of Michael died when they called her the woman he loved his whore. He destroyed her, and he killed himself a little in the process. He took something for himself, but his very touch was poison.

In college, Gabriel realized he was gay. The first time he had ever been in love was with an illegitimate son of some member of the British parliament was sent off to Harvard to make a name for himself, far, far away from his father. Those four years were lost to the musty, sweet smell of weed in his million dollar loft. With the slide of Balthazar's skin along his back, slow and firm, the way Gabriel liked. They fucked on the floor, in front of the TV and on the exotic carpets from somewhere in India. They studied naked and baked until one in the morning, when they fucked some more. Four years worth of hazy memories with Balthazar's hand pressing his cheek to the carpet calling him sweet baby, but fucking him like an animal.

Gabriel graduated. His Dad handed over seven million to keep Balthazar quiet. It was the AIDS epidemic and fags were being hunted like witches. Gabriel kept to himself, and just like Michael's mistress, no one said anything about and, eventually, his family seemed to forget.

Gabriel didn't go without. He was wealthy and charming when he wanted to be, so most of his bed-mates ended up being other closet case politicians; all operating on a tacit treaty of mutually assured destruction. No one lasted long, people needed to go to back to D.C. or people got tired of sex in hotels, always smelling of something clean and cold. Gabriel never minded much. Love the way he wanted, with his face in the carpet and a man calling him baby, was just something he wasn't allowed to have.

So he didn't dwell on it.

Gabriel's eyes fell to the cubicle where Sam had once sat. It was empty, now. It was never cluttered like everyone else's; with a cactus or ironic coffee mugs, nor pictures of friends. Sam's had only had once picture of a man in a fishing cap, with two boys.

Beside him, Chuck cleared his throat. Gabriel suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be giving a speech or something.

"Right." He told his staffers. They all smiled up at him. Fifty people, easily, who spent the past eight weeks talking about him and thinking about him and knowing him. He didn't know any of them at all. It was a surprisingly lonely feeling. "Tonight is the big night and – win or lose- I want to thank everyone for their hard work. It's people like you, more than people like me, who make a difference in this great country. I'll try not to let you down."

Becky was the first to start clapping as Gabriel hit the end note of his scripted speech. Prompted, everyone else joined in. Gabriel's eyes fell again to the empty cubicle and he was opening his mouth before he could stop himself.

"We live in a world, a political world, where people will tell you what you want to hear. They hide the parts of themselves that you won't like and they say things that sound good but don't really say anything. I've done it too, but... I do. Actually. Believe in you all. Sometimes I believe in you more than I believe in me.

"But you're here. You see something more in me and, damn it" There were a few surprised, amused titters but their attention on him was absolute. Beside him, Becky was grinning like a lunatic and Chuck was just standing with his jaw open. "Damn it, I don't want to let you down. I will be a damn good leader because you can know for certain that I'll always appreciate you. Not my family, not my father, but you for getting me where I am today. I am more than a Novak. I'm the man who will help you save your state. Thank you."

There was a beat of silence before the room erupted into applause.

This is what it was worth, all that work, all that sacrifice for this moment in front of them. His eyes fell back to Sam's cubicle. It was an immensely, lonely feeling.

* * *

Gabriel had gotten way too stressed, sitting next to Chuck and Becky at the office, while they tallied up the votes. Chuck's method for handling his stress was talking about it; about every time Gabriel dropped a question or made a solid remark. He paced back and forth, mumbling to himself while Becky nodded to his insane monologue, like it made sense. He trusted Becky to handle Chuck and disappeared.

Campaign workers at the office had cheese plates and all the alcohol Gabriel could fit into two SUVs. All of them partying like it was the last day on Earth and it was. After tonight, the campaign was over and they'd all flitter back home when it was done. Tonight was the night for them to drink, kiss the girl and go out in a blaze of glory. He'd be welcome with them, of course. But he wasn't twenty five, and it'd be obvious tonight with them.

So Gabriel headed to his hotel room, walking through the rainy streets, the last in a series of many on the campaign trail. Next would either be the Governor's Mansion or his house in San Francisco. Gabriel honestly couldn't say which sounded nicer.

It was a blessing, really, that Sam was so tall. He couldn't very well hide, even though it was dark and he was tucked under the roof of the building. He started walking towards Gabriel once Gabriel saw him, freezing in his tracks and staring right at him. Damn, did Abercrombie look good walking through the rain towards him, all the wet chill falling right off him as Sam's eyes smoldered. A quick glance down the street and Gabriel quirked his head toward the hotel, leading Sam inside.

They didn't talk until they got to the elevator.

"Didn't know that you'd be coming back here before they finished the count. Figured you had some place important to be."

"That's the beautiful thing about seeming important, everyone assumes you need to be somewhere else and it's a perfect excuse to slip away." Sam smiled, but didn't look over at him, stayed facing the doors like Gabriel had. "You didn't know I'd be back but you waited anyway?"

"Didn't know." Sam said softly, moving his hand closest to Gabriel. It was just the brush of coat sleeve over coat sleeve, but Gabriel snapped his eyes shut and took a ragged breath at the promise of Sam. So close and undisguised. "I'd hoped." Sam slipped a finger out from his coat sleeve and slid it up alongside Gabriel's wrist. His finger was like ice, but it slipped over his pulse point like it knew what it was doing.

Sam was finding Gabriel's weakest parts and rubbing up against them, like they were pieces of dry wood and he was trying to start a fire. Gabriel had been so cold for so long, a fire seemed like more than he could ever hope for.

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival to the top floor and Sam retracted his hand with flawless tact. Their footsteps on the plush carpet gave them away, Gabriel knew. Two men, sneaking into a hotel room, the speculation was enough to damn him but he could have this one thing, this one night. That couldn't hurt, could it?

Yes, it could, it could ruin him and, worse, ruin Sam. Because Michael's mistress, the one he loved more than Gabriel would probably ever understand, was called a whore and a temptress and a gold digging bottom feeder by people on Michael's payroll. Gabriel would suffer for this but Sam would be crucified.

Gabriel should warn him.

Sam's finger was under his coat sleeve again, warmer now, and so much more tempting because of it. They were at his door and no one was around. The door clicked open and Gabriel stepped aside to let Sam in. Gabriel was going to tell Sam, really, he was, but he just wanted a taste first. Just... something. He slid his hand up Sam's shoulders, so big and young and strong. He just needed a minute to feel it beneath his fingers, so hot and sure. Like definitive proof that Sam was an actual human.

Sam complied- good god, did Sam comply- dipping his head and letting his lips fall apart, his breath running across Gabriel's mouth like fingertips. Gabriel ran his hands from Sam's shoulders to his broad chest, splaying them out and stroking them along his wide chest, over his white dress shirt. Sam's breath shuddered and broke against him. Gabriel could get off on that alone.

"You need to know-" Gabriel murmured. "What they'll do to you-" He couldn't stop stroking Sam, feeling him beneath his hands. Gabriel moved a thumb over a button and Sam started nodding, his throat bobbing as he watched Gabriel begin to undress him. Sam's hands were trembling at his sides, but Gabriel's were sure and steadfast, moving onto the next button.

"I know." Sam finally murmured, but Gabriel was four buttons down. "I want it."

"Sam-" Gabriel sighed and Sam finally broke the trance and lunged forward, ensnaring Gabriel's mouth with his. He scraped his teeth along Gabriel's lips as he took his position. Gabriel opened up to him, threw his head back so Sam could hold him at a better angle. Sam's hips were snapping up against him in tiny, needy thrusts so Gabriel started dragging Sam, walking backwards until he felt the sure mattress under his legs and fell back onto it.

Sam wasted no time in kneeing up onto the bed, straddling Gabriel and moving back in to kiss him. Gabriel placed his hands on Sam's thighs, sliding his hand upwards until he was cupping his ass, his fingers finding the crease between the cheeks and making Sam rut against him in earnest, now.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Gabriel asked. Sam nodded, pink faced and wanton and all the things that people would call him, if they ever found out. Desperate. Throwing himself at Gabriel, making himself into a whore, or worse, a woman, in his cock-hungry desire.

But none of those were bad things, none of those were anything besides beautiful.

"We can do this any way you want," Gabriel tried again as Sam started where he had left off on unbuttoning his shirt. "You can be on top, we can just do oral. Fuck, you can just sit where you're sitting and let me look at you while I jerk off. Doesn't have to be this..."

"Always imagined it like this." Sam sighed, lowering his crotch onto Gabriel's lap, rolling his hips with the most perfect friction. "You on top, holding me open. Holding me down, fucking me like I'm yours. I-" Gabriel reached out and cupped Sam's tented trousers, finding the shape of his cock in all the layers and getting to know it that way. "I have lube in my pocket. I have condoms. I couldn't do this tomorrow because if you win, you'd think it was just because of that and that's not right. It's not Gabriel the Governor, it's you. It's just you. In the kitchen, with the cake and the coffee, just you. Not what they see. I want you and I want you to have me and you can throw me away tomorrow. I'll go home to Kansas and this will just be what I did while I was away- but fuck, tonight, make me yours tonight. I want to be someone's."

Gabriel knew better than to think he could ever really have something for himself. His life, his reputation, his marriage and his career weren't his. He was a public servant, Sam would be more free than Gabriel could ever know.

Gabriel couldn't have him.

But tonight, at least, he'd like to have someone.

"Strip." Gabriel ordered, and the way Sam's spine tensed, there was a moment when Gabriel was afraid he'd done something wrong.

Then Sam surreptitiously palmed himself as he finished the last of the buttons on his shirt and Gabriel was sure he'd said exactly the right thing because Sam whined when he added, "And no touching yourself."

Gabriel didn't know when Sam found time to hit the gym but he had. His purple-pink nipples were erect and reaching out into the cold air, shivering as Gabriel traced over them, running his middle finger down Sam's chest to his belly button and letting his thumb tangle in the coarse hairs that started there. A man in every way, not a fraction of softness about him. Yes, if Gabriel was going to commit social suicide and buy himself a ticket to political Hell, this is the only way it'd be worth it.

With Sam, beautiful and desperate. And, quite possibly, the only man who knew what Gabriel was like.

Sam's pants were next, and Gabriel slid his hands under the fabric as soon as he loosened the buttons on them. His hands were holding Sam's body still so he could fuck up against him. He rubbed his cock through the triangle of Sam's opened legs, even through the layers it felt like the sweetest oblivion.

Gabriel let Sam stand up to take off his pants and started on his own, toeing off his shoes while Sam watched, like Gabriel was doing something special. After a moment, Sam lowered himself onto his knees at the foot of the bed and ran a finger along Gabriel's ankle.

"Can I?" Sam asked, waiting only for a nod before he slipped Gabriel's shoe off of his foot for him, followed by his expensive black socks. No one had ever touched Gabriel's feet before, besides the occasional pedicurist or shoe salesman, but Sam leaned forward and nipped the tip of Gabriel's middle toe.

"Holy-" Gabriel gasped at the unexpected jolt of nerves through him. Sam smirked up at him, then slid Gabriel's middle toe into his mouth. He pulled it with his lips like he intended to pop it out of the socket, and it was it was about as close to the greatest a blow job as Gabriel had ever felt. He had no idea that there were a line of nerves directly from his toes to his cock, but there it was.

He made a growling sound in the back of his throat. Trying not to make too much of a sloppy mess of himself, as he threaded his fingers through the bedding. Gabriel rocked his head back as Sam moved on from his toe to his ankle then to hot open mouthed kisses along his leg. He yanked Gabriel's pants down when they got in the way.

Sam was panting when he got to Gabriel's thigh, locking his hands into the waist of his boxer briefs. He pulled them down, centimeter by centimeter, like the curtains rising for the big finale. Gabriel shrugged out of his shirt, and laid himself out naked for Sam to feast upon. Whether he was the offering on the altar or he was a king taking his tribute, Gabriel couldn't be sure, but Sam took him up nonetheless.

Sam was climbing back into bed and leaned over Gabriel, who met him halfway, kissing without any finesse at this point. He was too worked up over the weight in his lap and the hot humid heat between their bodies. Gabriel stroked Sam's back, found all the ridges and planes of it. Sam melted into him, rolling into his touch like a neglected cat. He rolled them so that Sam was on his back on the bed, bronzed and beautiful. His long brown hair bunched up beneath the pillow, even more so as Sam leaned his head back, offering Gabriel his neck in an ultimate pose of submission.

"Couldn't let you do to all the work." Gabriel muttered, pulling Sam's lube from the pocket of his pants and rolling it over his fingers. Sam nodded and closed his eyes as he waited for Gabriel to slide him open. Sam dropped his knees to the sides of his hips, resting his hands on the outsides of his legs, ready and open.

The first finger into Sam was a miracle. The muscle was relaxed, welcoming. Above, Sam was breathing slowly, keeping calm and pliant. The second finger disappeared with the first and then a third. Sam was sweating, his stomach fluttering and all of his muscles shaking with the effort of keeping cool and not tensing up.

"You're beautiful." Gabriel murmured, helping himself to Sam's condom. It was the kind they gave away for free at the clinics. Gabriel really needed to start paying his interns.

"I'm sorry." Sam said softly. "About what I said. That night. The night, I guess we don't have many others between us."

"Hush about that now." Gabriel leaned forward and kissed Sam's quivering navel. It jumped under the heat of his mouth. "Later. We can talk about it later."

"Don't sweet talk me, Gabriel." Sam said softly. "I just... I didn't mean it. You aren't bitter. You're so... you're so beautiful and I was just upset because you wouldn't have me then. I get upset sometimes."

"Shhh." Gabriel kissed Sam's stomach again, kissed along his crotch, up his thigh, to where he held it up and open. He dropped Sam's leg onto his shoulder so he could use his hand to line them up.

Sam was a strong a silent type, Gabriel learned. He gritted his teeth during the first, hard, push in. Sam's body sent him a million mixed signals, each rolling along his features; pain, pleasure, hurt, affection. He nodded when he was ready for more and Gabriel pressed in again. And again, until Gabriel was at the hilt and he tore his eyes away from Sam's beautiful face to where they fit together.

It was a beautiful feeling, fitting together. Gabriel moved because Sam was close to whining and Gabriel wasn't twenty but he also wasn't dead. He rolled his hips, slow and hard, making Sam toss his head in beautiful frustration across the pillow.

Sam's hand fell between them, stroking himself faster than Gabriel's languid pumping. His toes curled in the sheets, his channel tightened as his balls did. Gabriel wanted to watch him come, wanted to see it, to feel it and smell it in the air. Just not yet.

"Wait for me." Gabriel murmured. It wasn't an order, it was a plea and it was obvious. But Sam was the only one who heard it and he'd never hold it against him. "I'm almost there, wait for me."

Sam dropped his hand from his cock and instead wrapped them both around Gabriel as he felt the heat coiling in him, spreading out like lava down his limbs, as his body prepared itself.

"Ok" Gabriel groaned, with a more forceful thrust, "There, I'm there, come with me, fuck." Gabriel fucked into Sam hard enough to scoot him on the bed as he shot his come into the rubber. Sam whined and followed him over the abyss, spraying his release between them, coating them both in sticky stripes. He eased out of Sam, slowly but then Gabriel peeled off the condom, tying it and tossing it in the waste basket as quickly as he could.

Finally, Gabriel collapsed against him, thankful for Sam's size in that he just made an 'oof' sound and a single chuckle. Sam grinned as took Gabriel's full weight against him.

"It's going to be a mess." Sam mumbled, but wrapped his arms around Gabriel sleepily.

"We can take a shower." Gabriel returned, his eyes growing heavy. His body had never been so at peace as it was in Sam's arms. "You said we had all night."

Sam kissed his hairline and then Sam fell asleep.

* * *

Gabriel was woken by the sunlight, not his cellphone, which was concerning in itself.

The votes had been counted. The election was over. Gabriel blinked into Sam's naked chest. He hadn't moved much from where he collapsed the night before, and above him, Sam was blinking awake as he was reading something off his phone.

"No one called me." Gabriel said.

"Maybe your phone died." Sam said softly. He wouldn't meet Gabriel's gaze.

"I didn't win." he guessed, and Sam finally turned to him. "Well. I had a 50/50 shot. That's more than most people."

"Gabriel?"

"Sam."

"What... What now?" Sam shifted beneath him as Gabriel got up, sitting on the bed so he was looking down at the younger man in his bed. "I mean... do you run again in four years? Run for a lower office in the mid-term elections?"

"I'm not sure." Gabriel said. He reached forward and ran a hand through Sam's hair.

"Gabriel!" Sam said indignantly, "People are going to ask you these things and you need to be able to answer them. What about your family? I've heard that your brother might run for President next in two years."

Gabriel sighed and fell back against the pillows. Something so pretty shouldn't be allowed to be so smart.

"Yes, Lucas is running for president. My family is going to be disappointed in me, again, but they can't hurt me, they can only cut me off. And, even if they do, I went to _Harvard Law School_. I'll be fine. As for what's next... Breakfast, maybe? Sex makes me want pancakes."

"Your whole life you've been preparing for this, though." Sam said softly, searching all of Gabriel's features for the sign that he was about to have an emotional break down.

But Gabriel felt... free.

No more speeches, no more campaigning. That was Michael and Lucas' battleground. Maybe Gabriel was tired of fighting for something he didn't believe in.

"Do you want to go to Cancun?"

"Did you just have a stroke?"

"Mexico, Cancun, I want a vacation. It'll take at least a few weeks for them to lock all of my accounts. I want to take you with me."

"And when people see you running off to Mexico with a male intern?"

"Eh, let them speculate."

"Gabriel."

"That wasn't me, Sam. My whole life it wasn't me. I thought I had some sort of duty. I thought I needed to do stuff and be someone but they don't want me. I was exactly what I thought they wanted and they still didn't want me. There's more, Abercrombie. I've waited forty six years of my life to take something for myself. So. Cancun?"

"You're just giving it all up?"

"Yep."

"So now you're just some regular guy with a really fancy law degree and all that other stuff never mattered? I don't buy it." Sam ran a hand through his hair which had curled weird after their shower last night. "And say you are some regular joe with a nine to five, what does that mean for... me?"

"I'm not crazy, right?" Gabriel asked, and for the first time all morning, he was afraid of the answer. "This. This right here is real, isn't it? The way we fucked last night... I've been around long enough to know that doesn't just happen all the time."

Sam was quiet before he nodded.

"So... I guess we date, then. If you want to. People will say things. People will be watching. They'll crucify you if we become a problem for Luc. Eyes wide open, Abercrombie. It doesn't all just go away. But if you still aren't scared off... maybe we can take this whole thing back up on the beach somewhere. Like, oh, I don't know, Cancun?"

"It's real, huh?"

"It's real as Hell."

Sam nodded and laid back against the pillows, reaching for the room phone as he did so. He handed the receiver to Gabriel.

"Waffles." He said. "Then Cancun."

* * *

Dean Winchester didn't like being in the office of the auto-shop.

It was a sad, dreary purgatory for the poor sons of bitches that didn't have someone to pick them up when their car broke down. He hated the stupid grey walls and the shitty coffee by the counter. He hated the old magazines and the TV that played cable news on a loop. This was usually Charlie's job, a smart, bubbly red-head who spent most of her time doing something – god knew what on this archaic computer- for her entire shift.

She was good at it, too. Funny even, when men would try to put the moves on her and she'd shoot them down with more ten dollar words than they'd seen in a lifetime. Charlie was gay, but loved bright colors and her long hair. The poor Kansas truckers often got an earful if they called her 'sweet darling' or asked her about her boyfriend.

She got it into her head that it was sexist to sit her behind a counter and make her hand out the coffee. She was probably right, but Dean hadn't been thinking about a pretty face when he hired her. He just didn't want to be in the office anymore and Charlie was the only one in the shop that knew how to use Microsoft Excel. She'd put up such a stint that John rolled his eyes and sent Dean up to the front for the day while John showed Charlie how to change tires or something.

"Former California governor candidate, Gabriel Novak, is making strides today in the equality movement." Dean's ears perked up at the name. He wracked his brain for a moment as he thought... How'd he hear something like- Sam. In the background of the shot of, who must have been Gabriel Novak, giving some sort of speech, stood Sam, about seven inches over the other suit clad lawyers by his side. Dean banged on the glass between the auto shop and the office to get John's attention.

"- so, my client is entitled to these benefits as their marriage was declared valid before proposition 8 was put in place and therefore legal, as no legislative measures have been taken at this time to reverse the marriages that happened between that period. It is a simple matter of my client and her wife's right to joint property holdings under the union which was legal at the time it was made." Gabriel Novak was explaining. John and Charlie walked into the office and Dean pointed to John's hulking, youngest son trying to blend into the background and doing a terrible job of it.

"That's Sammy." John explained to Charlie, his brow furrowing as he read the feed on the screen.

"Novak has been under fire recently about his new-found activism in gay rights cases. Many in the industry, and the media, have brought his sexuality into question. During his campaign, Novak made no statements about his personal life or broad positions about overturning Prop 8 once he was in office. Leading some to wonder, what changed?"

The camera cut back to Gabriel Novak's speech in front of the courthouse.

"Mr. Novak!" a reporter called, "Many gay rights groups are calling for you to come out of the closet. Are you gay, Mr. Novak?"

The crowd fell silent as they waited for his answer. Gabriel rolled his eyes and gestured to one of the lawyers behind him.

"First of all, I'd like to point out that any human being, gay, straight, bisexual, asexual can support basic civil rights like the ones I've been upholding in my recent cases. Second of all, I'd like to point out that it is not a gay man or woman's 'responsibility' to come out of the closet for you."

"That's Sam?" asked Charlie as the lawyer Gabriel had gestured to came to stand next to him. Sam stood next to Gabriel, his poker face as strong as ever but casting nervous looks to Gabriel beside him.

"Now that that's cleared up." Gabriel said. "I'd like to affirm, in front of all of you here today, that, yes, I am gay. And as a gay man and a human being, I want to see the unconstitutional Prop 8 overturned. Because I'd really,_ really_, like to marry this man beside me."

With that, Gabriel locked a hand behind Sam's neck and pulled him into a kiss. The cameras went wild, the lawyers in the back ground looked at each other, shocked. A few reporters whooped.

Sam and Gabriel broke apart, Sam blushing but beaming as he put his hand against Gabriel's cheek. Gabriel grinning up at him, like they just got away with something. At the end of the year, that photo would be on the cover of _Times: Most Influential Pictures of the Year. _ In twenty years, it would be in a museum.

But that day, in that office, Dean and John and the girl who worked the front desk watched Sam and Gabriel kiss on TV.

"That's awesome." Charlie said, breaking the eerie silence of the office.

Dean looked over to John who was... grinning... of all things.

"I like that guy." he said finally, and turned back around to go to work.

Charlie gave Dean a shrug and a thumbs up as she followed John back out. Dean opened his phone and dialed Sam's number, even though he had it saved in his contacts.


End file.
